


Converge

by BashfulGnome



Category: Wreck-It Ralph (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Hero's Duty (Disney), Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BashfulGnome/pseuds/BashfulGnome
Summary: Thirty years of living a programmed hero's life can't protect Felix from something that doesn't care about code.
Relationships: Tamora Calhoun/Fix-It Felix Jr.
Kudos: 25





	Converge

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! It's been a long time since I've posted a new fic, as I've been very busy for this past year. But I'm back and I've finally finished something that's been in the works for many months. I hope you all enjoy!

_"Two o'clock!"_

One blast and the creature dropped from the sky, screeching in a puddle of its own innards.

He didn't know why, but they stood back-to-back, taking a last stand against a swarm of cy-bugs on a windy, barren patch of land beyond the perimeter check radius. He didn't know how he was managing to hold up such a large rifle either, but he did know he had to keep firing on the horde if the two of them had any hope of getting back to base. The fifty or so remaining insects circled above them in a continuous wave, blotting out the hazy dappled sunlight and strafing the fire aimed their way, while a few cyclically broke from the mass to divebomb the pair Galaga-style.

His fingers locked stiff against the weapon and he ignored the soreness in his joints. Letting up, even for a moment, wasn't a chance he was willing to take; not when they were fully depending on each other for their mutual safety.

She held up well—as would be expected—although he wondered how she could see through her helmet with her sweat-soaked hair all plastered against her face. Nothing seemed to bother her in the heat of battle, and she was as determined to protect him as much as he was for her.

Their tactical formation allowed them to rotate in the opposite direction of their enemy. Leaning back against each other, both feeling their partner's movements and working with the coordination of one mind, they placed measured footfalls in an inverted tango as they fought together. The state of flow allowed them to pick off multiple bugs per second, pausing only for verbal warnings. After a couple minutes of their practiced teamwork, only the smaller and injured members of the swarm remained.

For all the effectiveness of their strategy, the spinning, insects droning, vision swirling, weapons thundering, and buffeting of the wind chipped away at his bearings. He remembered what she had always told her troops—"stare at 'em flyin' in circles too long and the ground'll come up to meet you"—and in his disorientation he failed to notice a cy-bug with a partially-smashed wing landing perpendicular to his and his lady's field of vision. Only as it squealed and clattered towards them did he realize too late that it was aiming for her weapon.

Unable to turn sharply without sweeping his partner down with him, he shoved backwards, nudging her out of the way of the bug, and falling into its path himself. It was no surprise to him that the monster was not picky; he would do nicely as a consolation prize. Without hesitation it sunk its teeth into his leg armor with a sickening series of pops and pulled him off his feet, causing him to hit the ground hard enough to dislodge his rifle from his grasp. Before he could retrieve it, his captor attempted to drag him into the air, but lacked the leverage and strength to gain more than a few feet of altitude with him in tow. A voice foreign in its tone and volume screamed out from within him,

"Tam! _Run!_ "

Unarmed, he could only push and pull against the creature's mandibles in an attempt to stay upright, let alone injure it enough to make it release him. Either way Tamora was safe. There had only been three other bugs remaining; he could hear her yelling out and gunning down the last of them behind him. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to do, he reasoned, but he shook off his helmet to get a better view of his enemy. He wouldn't be needing the headgear for long anyway, provided his plan worked out.

He punched the insect in the eyes—breaking one of them—and flailed around to keep his leg out of the churning metal spikes, trying to buy her as much time to get away as he could. The furious shocks of pain gave way to numbness from the pressure. Clenching his eyes shut, he rocked back and forth in the hopes of disorienting his attacker. The buzzing only grew louder and his struggles more desperate as the bug's patience wore thin—

**_CRUNCH._ **

Was…that his leg?

The monster suddenly buckled in midair and sunk to the ground with a screeching howl of agony that burned his ears, green blood pouring out from around its neck and eye sockets.

He chanced a peek and found himself in no different condition than a few seconds ago. But the bug was much less fortunate.

He fully opened his eyes and saw Tamora on its back, knife drawn in between the plates of the steel exoskeleton, furiously sawing away at the cords connecting its head to the rest of its body as the creature scrabbled around in a futile attempt to grab her.

"Stay with me, soldier!" she shouted, between dodging the sharp edges of broken wings flailing at her. "They're at their worst when they know it's over!"

With each snap of a cut cable, they descended farther until he felt the ground give him a light slap on the back of his head. By the time Tamora reached the last wire, her blade had dulled from the heavy use and only cut partway through. Not wanting to waste any time, she flipped up the face visor of her helmet, bit into the frayed cord like a predator delivering the killing blow, and tore it the rest of the way apart with her teeth. With a hot spark and a fading groan, the light finally went out of the bug's cracked eye lenses and the whirling blades slowed to a stop.

She rolled off the creature's back and landed facedown on the ground with a heavy sigh of relief, pulling her helmet off onto the cool, dusty ground scarred with scrap metal. He reached out from his nearby spot and gently brushed her hair out of her face.

A new, intense sort of affection for her crackled to life and swelled in his chest as they caught their breath together. Here in the glow of the last bug's postmortem electrical sizzling, he felt closer to her than he ever had, grateful that she had come back to get him, and he wasn't sure exactly what he felt with how she took down that monster—proud? Awed? Lovely confusion swirled together all over itself, and the only way he knew how to express it right then and there was to clear a spot on her cheek for a kiss.

She chuckled, still facedown—a sharp exhale that told him she was smiling even with her face hidden in the ashy soil—and gave his shoulder plate a friendly half-punch.

He propped himself up on his uninjured leg and pulled himself into some semblance of an upright posture, leaning heavily to one side. The adrenaline had clearly worn off; pins and needles roiled inside his skin. His groaning at the sudden sensation returning to his limb caught her attention, and he extended a hand to help her up when she raised her head to take a look. Pulling her up he seemed to see her at eye level, face-to-face, but somehow it just made sense in all his disorientation.

He glanced her up and down with a questioning look.

"I'm good," she grunted, and slung both of their firearms over her back with one helmet balanced upon each of them. Her rote work machinations froze when her eyes drifted to his injury.

"What the hell is that?"

His heavy armor had fortunately prevented his leg from being snapped in half, but the attack had caused the plates to buckle inward across the entire space from his knee to his ankle. The razor-sharp edges scratched open the undersuit and the nearly-black bruises left beneath it; he looked as though he'd tried to fatally shin-kick a stack of plate glass covered in concrete. Bending the leg only made his nerves scream in protest, and he had to wait for the chill to pass through his spine before he could answer.

He took a breath to speak, and his voice came out nearly unrecognizable. He couldn't tell if he'd hit his head too hard or taken a shock from the severed wire, but he felt disconnected from his own speech.

"I'm okay…it's just some cuts," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Doesn't even look like it really broke the skin!"

No sooner did he speak than a trickle of blood ran down the cracks in his armor and pooled on the dirt around his foot. The wounds were so sensitive that he could practically feel the little stream dribbling over and into them on its way down. Or was that the leftover panic-sweat pouring down his legs now that he was standing? He couldn't tell.

Tamora raised an eyebrow. "You're not walking on that, babe, it's gonna tear itself apart and you'll bleed out. C'mere and lean over."

"Hon, you're already holding both weapons—"

"—Up you go."

Minding his leg, she hoisted him across her shoulders in a fireman's carry and headed off. With the greater-than-usual effort she required to haul him up, he wondered if she was injured too. The thought made him want to clip through the ground.

Close together as they were, with a better look at her face he found a red streak tracing the outline of the visor from her lower lip to the middle of her right cheek. She dismissed his stare with a grunt.

"Don't worry about it, just a little zap. Once it's done tingling it'll heal up and fade."

"'Don't worry about it'? Tam, you could've gotten electrocuted! Why'd you go to all that trouble?"

"You were too close to it," she stated matter-of-factly. "I couldn't shoot it without hitting you or blowin' shrapnel all over your leg, and if I tried to break the wires by twisting its neck then its teeth would've gotten pushed into you even deeper."

"No I mean… _why?_ And for what? I wasn't even supposed to be on this mission and I could've gotten you killed! You could've just come back for me later! You know how fast the backups roll out when it's something like this—"

"You really think I'd leave you there when there'd be nothing but a pile of warm guts to come back to if I'd waited any longer?!" she barked in exasperation. "Oughtta know by now that I love you. After throwing yourself in front of that thing for me, I wasn't gonna sit there and let you pay the whole tab yourself."

That feeling tumbled through him again and he found himself getting dizzy trying to follow it.

"You…you really are a dynamite gal…"

His chest went cold and intense dissociation fogged his mind, numbing his limbs again. The feeling pulled him down, falling further out of consciousness, at once both in awe of her and furious with himself for saying those words out loud.

But she didn't react. Not negatively at least. She patted him on his bottom and tried to hide a smile, shaking her head. The raging heat of battle in her eyes had smoldered to glowing embers of affection, and she turned to press her lips to his in a soft, unhurried kiss.

_"You're welcome…"_

—

In an instant Felix found himself in total darkness, warm and silent. The rhythmic rise and fall of pressure against his back and the weight of a long arm draped over his body brought him back into clarity—he lay with Tamora in her cot in Hero's Duty, under the cozy quilt he'd brought her from home to make his fiancée's living space more comfortable. She slept peacefully, and the bedside clock read 3:28 AM.

His head clearer, he pulled back the blanket to inspect his leg and found it to be completely unharmed. He couldn't have fixed it with his hammer, he'd have remembered that…and he remembered that he'd stayed the night in his special lady's quarters since she needed to work late for a perimeter check. It must've been a dream.

Yet although it didn't feel real, exactly, it felt…detailed. Not quite a nightmare, but he still trembled from the intensity of the experience—combat and dissociation alike—leaving him in an uneasy state. He felt its approach rumbling in the distance, a delayed sort of dread amalgamated from a hundred different dredged-up feelings and memories whose size he couldn't judge from his current vantage point.

If this was anything remotely close to how Tammy's episodes felt, he couldn't imagine how she ever got any sleep. He sat up, clapped his hands against his face, and reached for a cup of water sitting on the nightstand.

The movement caused Tamora's arm to slide off Felix and onto the bed. Her hand landed on a warm patch of the sheet and she felt around for him, finding a slightly damp, shaky arm. He froze at the sudden touch mid-sip, then sighed in relief. She released her light grip and stroked his arm with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry, honeybadger," he whispered. "Did I wake you up?"

His own voice didn't startle him this time, a thought he never figured he'd have.

"It's all right," she groaned. "What was it about?"

"What was what about?"

"The dream."

"How—?"

"I know what those weird ones feel like," she replied, without a trace of doubt. "You're all cold-sweating and confused."

Felix only continued shivering and put down the cup, not trusting his hands to keep it steady anymore. It embarrassed him that a dream like that—one that wasn't even horrible—affected him so much. He tried to reply but the wave of that odd negative feeling sideswiped him, and he reached for the small bedside trashbin. His coughs produced nothing but dry heaving.

"Take it easy! C'mon, here you go." Tamora rubbed his back until the coughing subsided, then tipped up the cup to his lips for him to finish the drink.

It didn't take him long to quiet down, but he still shivered and sweat, clinging to her as though he feared he'd fall. She placed him back under the covers and pressed her palms firmly against his shoulders. He put his hands over hers and squeezed them.

"More?"

He nodded.

She carefully lowered herself onto him, trying to avoid restricting his movement too much. His heartbeat buzzed and thumped against her own chest and made him vibrate erratically beneath her. For an 8-bit this rapid pulse was normal, even without a heightened emotional state—but with how bizarre it felt to her, she could never stop herself from worrying.

"You're safe, babe. The dream's over. Can you hear me? You're gonna be fine," she whispered, one hand combing through his hair in a gentle rhythm.

The warm pressure of her blanketing him brought Felix reassurance. He took a deep breath and inhaled that sweet intermingling of faint napalm, strawberry shampoo, and her natural scent that he knew so well. The rest of the dread barreled safely past him like a freight train running on a parallel track. Little by little the quivering faded and his breathing evened out until he could focus on the outline of her face hovering above his own.

The illumination from the clock let him see her just clearly enough to make out her concern.

"Thank you, darlin'. I'm sure it wasn't as bad as yours get."

"Doesn't matter. How're you feelin'?"

"Tam—"

She pressed a quick kiss against his lips to settle him down. "C'mon. Whatever it was, it was bad for you. Are you okay?"

"Now I am. I-I think. But…"

The events of the dream kept repeating in his mind. Calm as he was for the moment, they still played loudly enough to compete with the only sound in the room.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

His voice came in a hushed squeak. "…Am I holdin' you back?"

She blinked. "From what?"

"I don't know…I just feel like no matter what I do, I could never measure up. You're strong, and smart, and brave, and…well, gosh, you're more gorgeous than a sunset on the beach…I love you more than anything but I'm not… _enough_. You deserve the best of everythin' and that's more than I can be."

She leaned in closer and brushed a finger along his cheek.

"Felix, if I had to live up to everything you're holdin' yourself to, we'd be toast from the start. You're more than enough for me."

His cheeks flushed with heat and he averted his eyes. Suspecting that their conversational position was flustering her little guy, Tamora laid down next to him.

"If all this is moving too fast for you, we can put it on hold, I get it. There's no rush. We can keep going like this without the formalities if the whole contract thing is too much."

"Tamora Jean, I don't ever wanna make you get to thinkin' I don't want this. I've _never_ doubted lovin' you for a second, a-and I've wanted to be married to you for…"—he clasped a hand over his chest and giggled to himself—"…a real long time now. I'm just worried about you. You're the one gettin' the bad end of the deal…and I just— I can't go off bein' selfish about it. I don't want you to regret this."

"The _hell_ are you talking about?" The words came out in a growl, louder than she intended. She propped herself up on one elbow and leaned in close enough that he could feel the tempo of her breathing change.

Rattled, he couldn't muster an answer. Seconds dragged by and Tamora drew back.

"I'm sorry." She sighed. "Here you are, all shaken up already and I'm sittin' here scaring you even more."

"No I understand, it's okay—"

"It's not okay, I'm making it worse." She groaned again and rubbed the heel of one hand against her eyes. "You know how I am, hearing you talk about yourself like that. Comes with the territory. But— this isn't a physical threat, is it? Nobody I need to straighten out for you?"

"No ma'am."

She ran a hand through her hair and grumbled. "If I was any good at fightin' that abstract stuff then you wouldn't be on the other end of this all the time…" She shook her head. "Y'know what, give it to me anyway. I owe you."

"…Well, I'm the only person you've been with since you've gotten here. What if…what if there's someone better for you out there and I'm keeping you from finding them? I'm not…" He made a vague hand gesture, as though trying to measure the air. "… _useful_. I'm not even good-lookin'. I don't know why you would settle for me."

"Where's this coming from all of a sudden?"

"You've seen 'em, Tammy. They yell awfully rude things at you in the station and they only stop when you challenge 'em back. They look at us together and holler out at you no matter what I tell them 'cause they think I'm a joke."

"Who cares what those knuckle-draggers think? They're just upset that someone smaller than they are got to lay hands on a pair of knockers before they did."

She knew it was inevitable, but she still couldn't stifle a laugh when he flushed bright red.

"If they had any potential to be good partners they wouldn't be huddled up in empty outlets and hootin' at people. They can scream all they want, I'm the one who scored the most premium-grade husband material in the whole arcade by pure dumb luck."

"Aww, c'mon Tammy…" Felix giggled and hid his face in his hands.

"I don't waste my time with slobs, troglodytes, cowards, womanizers, manchildren, or anyone who puts on a nice act then turns into a monster as soon as they hear a 'no'. You're _none_ of those things, not by a long shot. Say the word and I'll gladly knock down anyone who tells you you're not good enough for me."

Felix smiled and tentatively reached for Tamora's hand. She felt a hesitancy in the motion and saw the same in his smile, almost as if he wasn't giving himself permission to accept the compliment.

"Hey." She whispered and scooted closer to him, her tone dropping from hard authoritarian to gentle coaxing. "You lifted me out of the Nesquiksand, remember?"

His face fell and he looked away, mumbling in response.

"What?"

"I pulled my shoulder…I pretended I was okay and then fixed it when you turned around to go to the shuttle! I didn't want you to think I was weak!"

"Oh, Felix…"

"You looked so gosh-darn impressed with me and I didn't wanna make you feel bad or let you down…and then I did anyway, when we were flyin'…I never wanna hurt you like that again."

Tamora gave his hand a squeeze, making him look up at her.

"We had to work together to get outta there. Didn't exactly escape my notice that we've got a size difference goin' on—why'd you think I wouldn't be impressed that you held on that whole time?" She nudged him with a grin. "Wouldn't have been surprised if I knew that lift gave you an injury."

She kissed his fingertips.

"And quit worryin' about that anymore. You couldn't've known about those damn words then, and you know full well now. Hope you'll always be lucky enough that you never have to fully understand this."

"But—" He sighed. "But that's the thing, Tammy. There's so much I don't know. I'm…" He shook his head. "I have no background on this. I'm too simple. W-what if I can't learn it all, and I keep ending up hurtin' you?"

She counted off her fingers. "Remember when I snapped at you for not knowing what a cy-bug was? Or when I jumped your bones too hard and accidentally clipped you through the headboard of the bed onto the floor? Or when I thought you were being attacked in Game Central because I didn't realize that's just the way Zangief gives hugs? I'm the one who's gotta make sure I don't stomp all over you and the others."

A shy yet satisfied grin broke across his face at the mention of the second item, but the third elicited a mischievous laugh. "He invited you to Open Tournament Night. Ralph saw the whole scuffle 'n was afraid of you for a week."

"See? You're far from hurting me. If I'm being honest— y'know, you might not realize it, but you take care of me every day. PTSD doesn't make sense. It doesn't care whether you've come to terms with what happened…or _didn't_ happen. You've always been patient with me through everything, and you're gonna be the best partner I could ever ask for. You already are."

"I know you mean it. I'm not doubtin' you, Tammy. But…you know how you say that sometimes, your mind sorta…it doesn't wanna let you believe?"

He waited for a response, but she only put a hand on his shoulder and nodded for him to continue.

"I shouldn't say it, bein' so lucky, but…thirty years of folks cozyin' up all over you makes you wonder if anyone really means it, or if anyone's gonna really feel some kind of way about you if they weren't programmed to. And with everything else goin' on, and the dream…it kinda just stacks up."

The silence was agonizingly long but neither of them could break it. For all that a shared experience would do for their mutual understanding, she hoped with all of her being that nothing had happened to drag him anywhere near the same disgusting place of night terrors, self-doubt, and mistrust from which she'd spent her post-programming life clawing her way out. No question she was ready to do whatever was needed to pull him back into the safety he'd always provided for her. But the thought of seeing her illness mirrored in him and knowing she couldn't protect him from it in the first place horrified her.

It took another minute for her to trust her voice, if only as a whisper.

"You ready to tell me about the dream?"

"Are you okay to hear it?"

"Of course, darling. C'mere." Tamora scooped Felix closer and he tucked his head under her chin in that familiar way they fit together. The uncomfortable feelings of the dream still knocked around in his conscious mind but the grounding touch made it significantly easier to bear.

"Well, we were back-to-back in the middle of this big battle. There were cy-bugs swirlin' around everywhere and we couldn't escape. One of 'em got its wing broken and tried to sneak up on you."

He felt her breath hitch for a moment.

"Are you sure you're feelin' up to this, honeyb—"

"Keep— keep going," she stammered. "I'm fine, just…kinda surprised me."

He kissed the underside of her jaw before continuing.

"I kinda panicked and pushed you outta the way. It grabbed me by the leg, I dropped my gun, and then it tried to take off with me. It didn't get too far on account of its wing, but it chewed up my leg really bad and I tried to fight it by hand."

He blushed profusely and nuzzled against her neck. "And then…you jumped on the bug and cut all its wires, but one of 'em was stubborn so you broke it with your teeth…"

"And I decapitated it? Then we had a moment and I picked you up?"

Felix looked up and nodded. "I really…it made me feel so close to you. Then I said something I shouldn't have, but you were okay with it."

Tamora only stared at him.

To most, her expression would be nearly inscrutable. When she and Felix had first started dating, some of her men had told him that reading her was like reading a bear—between her severe resting facial expression and gruff voice you never knew for sure what she was thinking or feeling unless she was _very_ obviously angry.

But Felix had noticed it in her eyes. The rest of her face could be carved from stone, but fear, sadness, hesitancy, worry, joy, serenity—it always came right through, clear as day.

This time, it was some combination of shock and…nervousness? Carefully, he moved a few strands of hair away from her cheek and rested his hand along her jawline. He could feel the clenched-up tension and massaged his fingers into the space just below her ear.

"That's what I mean, sugarplum, how this all flared up and got me to thinkin' about everything else I said—even in my dreams, I'm slowin' you down."

"…That was Brad."

It was Felix's turn to freeze. "Wh-…what do you mean?"

"That wasn't just a dream, that's one of our memories. He came with me on patrol and we got separated from our vehicle by a cy-bug ambush. Saved each other and I carried him back to the jeep."

A hundred little pieces all clicked together somewhere down in Felix's assembly language. The explanation made sense only on some visceral level but he couldn't get inside it. He figured he must have had one strange look on his face, since Tamora quirked a bit of a smile and continued.

"They had to knock him out and pull all the little metal shards out of his leg so he wouldn't get an infection, flushed the whole thing out with some kinda high-grade antiseptic. He was hobblin' around for weeks afterward."

She looked off in the general direction of the little mess of portraits that congregated on her desk. The four of them goofing off in Sugar Rush, a candid photo Ralph took of Felix sharing a pie with her on the back steps of the apartments during Litwak's lunch break, Vanellope standing on the woman's shoulders to help hang a wreath while Felix visibly squealed in the background.

Among them stood an old programmed-in snapshot taken by Kohut—Brad and Tamora in civilian clothes, with him laying across a beat-up couch and trying to hide his bandaged leg behind her. She sat upright in front of him on the edge of the cushion, and they both looked like they had just finished laughing after Kohut cracked a joke.

"We got engaged a month later. He said he wanted to do it right after I sawed that bug's head off but he couldn't bend his knee well enough yet."

Felix felt his chest twisting inside, an uncomfortable mingling of relief and shame. It wasn't something he had done on purpose, but something he was exposed to against anyone's will, and of course it was something he knew he wasn't supposed to see. He'd promised Tamora that he wouldn't press her for stories when she wasn't ready, and yet here she was feeling she had to explain herself to him anyway. He was lifted out of his thoughts by Tamora leaning in, somehow seeming both curious and satisfied.

"Felix, you…somehow you were accessing his memories in your sleep?"

"Aw Tammy I'm sorry, I shouldn't have seen all those private things. Nobody should've."

"No, I…I'm glad you did." She smiled and rubbed circles against his back. "It sounds like you felt what he felt. That's better than I coulda done telling you, and to be honest I was gonna bring it up one of these days anyway. There's nobody I'd trust more to hear it."

He hugged her a little tighter, taking a chance and loosening his grip on the guilt. To his surprise he could feel it pulling away of its own accord.

"As far as I know, you saw an unused cutscene. But why you were in it…I have no idea." She shrugged. "Maybe it's just a TobiKomi thing."

She was pretty relieved herself, that in spite of all her fears he hadn't developed an illness. He'd always been very sensitive, and getting a peek at a relatively tame part of her history firsthand was a far better outcome than almost anything else he could've seen.

"Are we close to where it happened? Maybe the game got confused with me bein' here for too long when I shouldn't be."

She shook her head.

"The players don't see the whole story. There's a lot more to that guy than a few cutscenes the devs chose to keep visible in this game—the arcade version, at least. What you saw doesn't have an event trigger in this game and only I know about it. There must be one hell of a coding oversight someplace if it just played in your head out of nowhere, but it makes me wonder…"

Maybe it was delusion, she thought. Maybe it was just a coping mechanism, or a reaction to having so many memories rooted in this hellhole of a game. But she always felt that some little spark of Brad still lived—if that was the right word—in Hero's Duty. The idea of him benevolently haunting the place was a small, private comfort to her. That wherever he was, if he was anywhere at all, he would choose to stick around and maybe even help them out from time to time.

Felix felt her smile and kiss the top of his head. A deep sense of peace seemed to flow from their point of contact and wash over him.

"If you don't mind me askin'…what was he like?"

She took a deep breath, sighed, and snorted out a half-chuckle at the handful of pleasant and bittersweet memories she hadn't allowed herself to touch since she'd been plugged in.

"Heh. Well naturally, he took his job seriously, but he wasn't just some big stoic macho guy. You saw he needed a hand too. Had a lot of hard feelings over his own work causing so much trouble and it kept him up at night too. He was the only one left when we got here."

That hit Felix hard. Tamora had told him before that Brad didn't mean for the cy-bugs to be what they'd become, but he'd never considered how much it would've gnawed at the inventor's conscience.

"Sometimes he'd cry if I got hurt, and just sit there apologizing while he patched me up. If it was him, he'd make dark jokes about it. We both did that…comparing scars, who had a gorier injury, all that. When we had to camp out he'd put my sleeping bag on top of his so I wouldn't be on the ground. 'Course bein' on top of someone's bones was pretty uncomfortable too but he meant well."

The tangled cords of the dream straightened out a bit more. She was right—he'd felt what Brad did, even to the point of it shaking his code and splitting his mental state where they diverged in action or feelings—but it didn't shock him anymore. There'd been fewer differences than he thought.

"He was a great guy…but he's really lucky that I didn't meet you first."

He gasped, so quietly that she barely heard him. "Tammy…you really mean it?"

He needed tenderness. The thought finally blindsided her, and she couldn't believe it was so obvious. All the calculated reasoning certainly helped to an extent, but sealing the deal required him to be understood on an emotional level. She needed to be as open with him as he always was with her.

Normally that was easier said than done, with her nature. But something about this early morning atmosphere made her see him the way he saw her. She commanded his full attention. The way he gazed so earnestly up at her, with one arm around her and the other tucked in close to his chest, the muted, dim light in the room…it was her turn to be rendered speechless and start her thoughts from scratch. He was unbearably cute, and in turn he made her feel like the strongest, most attractive sprite in existence. In less-serious circumstances she would've gone right ahead and asked if he was ready for her to indulge her own physical feelings for him, but that would have to wait. They both needed this first.

She pulled him away slightly and placed him at her eye level with a firm nod. "I want you to understand more than anything that you are not some second-best backup option. I am not settling for anything. I never have and never will. I wasn't with him because he was big or strong. I was with him because he was a loving partner, a trusted ally, and a good listener who took the time to understand me. In my line of work…" She shook her head. "I didn't think I'd ever get someone like that, but I got it twice. If you ever think I don't value what you bring to this, I want you to remember what you did when the bugs backed us up to the Sugar Rush exit. Remember how you stayed up all night to talk me down from an episode. I haven't forgotten."

Several times he attempted to choke out a response. He settled for a soft affirmative whimper.

"You've had to prove yourself in real, unscripted situations you were never trained for, unarmed, with limited resources, and you still made it through. After that first night terror when I half-woke up disoriented…and screaming…and kicked you onto the floor, I was afraid I'd scared you off and that was that."

Her expression faltered a moment before breaking into a gentle smile.

"But you never left. You just…you saw what you were getting into and didn't go running in the other direction. You cared— still care enough to stick around, and learn, and help…you never made me feel ashamed of being what I am. Don't delude yourself into thinking I'm doing this on a whim. I don't take this stuff lightly and I would never be going into marriage again if I still had any doubts about you."

Felix felt as though he could melt under that steel-blue gaze; between being curled up against her and trying to absorb the meaning of everything she'd said, he could swear his heart was about to combust. Needless to say, no words came out. He got the sense that her airing of these feelings did as much for her own health as for his. Even if he didn't feel as though he'd been overclocked…what could he say?

"After everything, I have to accept that he's only ever been a ghost, like it or not. Both of us were scripted into doing what we had to do for the game's story. Used to think I'd never stop blaming myself just like he did over the bugs, and I know the PTSD still won't ever just get up and book it, but everything's different now. You've given— aww, c'mere." He whimpered into her shoulder and she pulled him back up to her face, her inflection gentler this time.

"You've given me more than any backstory could. All those therapeutic knitting circle meetings that Clyde kept goin' on about, walks in Niceland tryin' to avoid Gene, skeet shootin' over in Duck Hunt for a change of scenery— y'know…that wouldn't help nearly as much if I wasn't comin' home to an adorable handyman rarin' to tell me all about what Norwood's new kittens were up to, or sittin' there enthralled by my fiftieth story about a player hitting three bugs with one round."

Felix was a complete mess. Tears soaked his hands that he clamped over his nose and mouth. He leaked the occasional choked sob, trying desperately not to interrupt her with his various emotional noises.

Tamora knew he couldn't hold it in much longer.

"I'm not a Nicelander. I'm not saying all of this because I was programmed to, or because I don't know any different. It's messy, and maybe I don't have much of a point, but…I'm telling you this because you're my beautiful little man and I love you to pieces."

She leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"And don't you dare try to tell me otherwise."

A high-pitched, single-channel whine rattled out of him for a few long seconds and Tamora briefly worried that she had crashed him. But immediately afterwards he pressed himself against her and peppered her face with kisses—while she tried to keep up—as though it was the last thing he'd ever do in his life.

Felix was many things but eloquent wasn't usually one of them. The thought of Tamora trusting him enough to be so vulnerable—to a degree he'd never seen from her before, not even in private—left him speechless. He couldn't help but feel they'd each broken a barrier for the other, as his insecurity and self-doubt were no longer stifling. He wouldn't have been able to find the words for a response even if he could form them at the moment; he only hoped he'd given her a clear enough message with everything else he had in him.

 _"FELIX!_ _**Breathe!**_ _"_

She gave him a few hard thumps on his back and he realized for the first time that he had been straining for air.

"Tha…thank y-you," he finally sputtered out.

"Are you all right?" she asked, not hiding a trace of amusement as he began to quiet down.

"Now I am…gosh, Tamora, that was beautiful…I…I really—thank you, I needed that a whole lot," he sniffled. His voice escalated in pitch. "I love you so much…!"

"Aww, c'mere Shortstack…Love you too. Feel better?" Tamora placed him on her chest and pulled the covers up, letting him play with one of her hands.

"Mmhmm…"

"Good. Me too." she sighed and caught her own breath. "Well, that was something, huh? Haven't had a night this educational since Markowski set off his own landmine on the way back from the day's last game."

"I just wish I didn't have to wake you up. 'M sorry."

"Don't apologize." She tightened her one-armed hug around his waist. "Lost count of how many times I've woken you up with my night terrors."

He massaged her hand between his own and she felt a contented frisson rumble through him. "Suppose all I have to worry about now is that I don't go and faint right there when you walk down the aisle."

"Well, if we can get my best team locked and loaded to fend off any cy-bug attacks, then we can account for that too. Anyone holds it against you and they'll regret showin' up. But I'm gettin' the feeling you're gonna be fine."

He beamed. "I'll do my best! That's a promise."

"I know," she laughed. "Sweet smokeless ballistics, do I know."

They lay peacefully tucked into each other for a time neither of them bothered to measure—even looking at the clock was too much of an unwanted distraction. But as circumstance would have it, sleep wouldn't come. Something in both their subconscious minds wouldn't let them release this moment without some last bit of closure.

"Are you awake?" Felix whispered.

"Yeah."

"I know I ought to, but I can't get back to sleep," he chuckled. "I think I'm enjoyin' this too much."

"…I've got an idea— well, I've had an idea all night…if you're up for it."

He turned around and scooted up to face her. "Did you want me to go heat up some milk for you? I've got some tea for m'self and—oh!"

Tamora flipped him over onto his back. She nibbled her way up from the side of his neck to his opposite ear, and her nose brushed against his.

"We'll get to sleep better, warm up the room, and give the troops an early wake-up call. How'd you like your sergeant to show you how satisfied she is with your performance?"

The low, rough purr of her voice alone gave Felix the message loud and clear. She ran one hand down the length of his entire body, doting on the soft contour of his face with a light pinch, all the way down to those short-but-powerful legs of his. He involuntarily let out a quiet moan at the familiar touch; it was the same sensation of loving reassurance he always tried to communicate to her when tracing her scars and nuzzling into her muscles.

He finally nodded and wrapped an arm around her neck, burying his fingers in her hair with one hand and caressing down her shoulder with the other. Even if this was a treat she intended for him, he wasn't about to leave satisfied until Tammy was, too. At ease and with confidence boosted, he was ready for whatever they'd tackle together.

"Sounds like a mighty fine plan to me…"


End file.
